Even Cowgirls Get The Blues Page #11

WOMAN:

Are you a pilgrim?

SISSY:

No, I'm more of an Indian The trio

doesn't smile.

DRIVER:

She means are you going to see the

Chink?

SISSY:

Oh, I may and I may not. But seeing

him is not my main objective out

here.

DRIVER:

That's good. Because he won't see

you. We came all the way from

Minneapolis to see him and the crazy

bastard tried to stone us to death

OTHER MAN:

Yeah, but I no longer believe that

guy's a master. He's just a dirty,

uptight old mountain man. Why, he

pulled out his pecker and shook it

at Barbara. I'd stay away from there

if I were you, lady.

Sissy walks on leaving the people in the bus arguing about

whether the Chink's rock-shower and pecker-wag actually had

been intended as spiritual messages.

EXT. ROAD DAY

WALKING down the long dirt road, Sissy stops to take a

breather and sits down on a log.

Sissy thinking and looking into the clouds.

Waves of grasses whisper her name: Ssssssssss, Sssssssssssss

Sisssy.

Meadowlarks squander their songs on her as she begins to

squirm on the log.

A Lincoln Continental drives up suddenly. Sissy barely has

time to zip up.

The Cadillac stops in front of Sissy. A teenaged girl in a

Stetson is at the wheel. The rear door of the limousine opens

and a refined matronly voice calls from the void.

MISS ADRIAN:

By any chance are you Sissy Hankshaw?

SISSY:

Yes I am.

A chic middle-aged woman leans out of the car.

MISS ADRIAN:

My goodness. Why didn't you telephone?

Someone would have driven into

Mottburg to pick you up. I'm Miss

Adrian. From the ranch. The Countess

wrote that I should expect you. Get

in, won't you? You must be exhausted.

Gloria, assist Miss Hankshaw with

her luggage.

Gloria nods at Sissy amicably but doesn't make a move to

help her.

Sissy swings her sack into the roomy vehicle. Before she

gets in she flashes her thumb to hitch a ride.

The instant that Sissy shuts the door the cowgirl chauffeur

floors the Cadillac and it lurches away in a puff of dust.

INT. CADDY DAY

Sitting up after the bothersome lurch of the car.

MISS ADRIAN:

Little twit.

(turns to Sissy)

You really ought to have phoned. We

were just in Mottburg escorting some

guests to the afternoon train.

(sighs)

More guests leaving ahead of schedule.

Three checked out today. They decided

to transfer to Elizabeth Arden's

Maine Chance spa in Phoenix, Arizona.

It costs two hundred and fifty dollars

a week less at the Rubber Rose, so

why are our guests leaving and going

to Elizabeth Arden's?

Miss Adrian pushes a button that sends a partition glass

between her and the cowgirl driver. Gloria starts laughing

silently on the other side of the glass.

MISS ADRIAN:

I'll tell you why, it's that plague

of cowgirls. They've gradually

infiltrated every sector of our

program. The one named Debbie

considers herself an expert on

exercising and diet. With Bonanza

Jellybean's permission and against

my explicit orders, she's been

coercing the guests into trying

something called kundalini yoga. Do

you know what that is? It's trying

to mentally force a serpent of fire

to crawl up your spinal column. Miss

Hankshaw, our guests can't comprehend

kundalini yoga, let alone do it.

Yesterday, she ordered a new cookbook

by a Tibetan Negro, entitled Third

Eye in the Kitchen: Himalayan Soul

Food. God knows what that will be

like. The little barbarians are

destroying everything that I've built,

mocking all that the company stands

for. And there's a new one, one they

call del Ruby. She has the good will

of a scorpion. I've considered it

prudent to avoid a confrontation

that might further upset the guests.

But now that the season is practically

over -- we operate April through

September -- and the Countess is

finally coming...

EXT. RUBBER ROSE DAY

The limousine pulls up in the drive.

MISS ADRIAN'S VOICE

Our Ranch has all the latest in modern

facilities...

INT. BEAUTY RANCH DAY

We see women having facials.

MISS ADRIAN'S VOICE

We have a facial wing, and next to

that is the Hair Barn...

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